


On Sibilance

by hanap



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Multi, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snektember, snisses and snuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanap/pseuds/hanap
Summary: An angel and a serpent finally settle into something resembling tranquility.[A series of ficlets written for Snektember 2020.]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 98
Collections: Snektember 2020





	1. sunbathing

**Author's Note:**

> These ficlets will be posted daily (hopefully!) for the Snektember event on the GO Events Discord server. [Full list of prompts here](https://puppy-bums.tumblr.com/post/626849798166904832/welcome-to-snektember-like-september-but-make-it), if you want to join in!

Aziraphale’s attention to his book was broken by the familiar rasp of scales against stone, the grass rippling as an enormous black serpent reared its head, the beady golden gaze fixed on him intently.

“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale said quietly, as the serpent laid its gorgeous head on his knee. “Enjoying the weather?”

A forked tongue flicked out, accompanied by a soft hiss. Aziraphale gently touched the serpent’s head, his fingers running down the scales on its back.

“Would you like me to read to you?” Aziraphale asked.

In response, the serpent slithered its way up the bench, draping in heavy black coils on the backrest, head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder, tongue flicking lightly against his cheek. Aziraphale smiled and cleared his throat, opening his book once more.

_“Shall I love you?” said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find this ficlet on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/628073508365369344/sunbathing)!


	2. basket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel wrangles a petulant serpent into a basket.

When Aziraphale stepped out of the flat on the second floor of the bookshop, dressed in a new cream-colored formal suit and a light blue bowtie, he was slightly put out and not at all surprised to find that the bookshop had been completely flooded in a sea of iridescent coils twisting around the shelves and tables, each enormous scale larger than a dinner plate and shimmering brightly in the early afternoon sun.

“How much longer do you intend for this fit of temper to last?” Aziraphale asked.

A gigantic head was raised from somewhere in the masses of its body, and a pair of amber eyes glared at him balefully. Truthfully, it was quite a sight. Aziraphale might have been frightened, had he not known and loved this particularly petulant serpent for the past six thousand years.

Aziraphale sighed, half fond and half exasperated, as he made his way down the stairs. “It will only be for an hour at most, and I promise you that it will _not_ hurt your dignity unless you allow it.”

The wicker basket he held was large enough to hold a newborn infant – or a reasonably-sized snake. The serpent opened its mouth wide, baring its dagger-sharp fangs at the sight of it.

“Come now, we can’t arrive later than the bride, or else I’ll never hear the end of it from Tracy.” His voice softened. “I would much rather you suffer a little indignity by letting me carry you, my dear. You know full well what consecrated ground is like.”

Aziraphale put the basket down on the floor and waited.

Finally, there was a hiss of resignation as the sea of black and red began to move, undulating and slithering until somehow, all of the serpent’s coils were safely nestled into the soft red blanket that lay in the basket. The serpent’s head poked out suddenly, golden eyes fixed on Aziraphale, and he knelt down and dropped a kiss on the shining black scales.

The serpent retreated into the blanket, burying its snout in its coils as though embarrassed. Aziraphale smiled and picked up the basket, pulling the keys of the Bentley out of his pocket as the bookshop door locked itself obligingly behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find this ficlet on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/628159318935666688/basket)!


	3. ducks

“My dear,” Aziraphale murmured as he scattered a handful of oats into the cattails by the pond. “You’re frightening the ducks.”

There was a soft hiss from beneath his sleeve where a serpent had wrapped itself around his arm. Slowly, the serpent slithered its way up into the tartan scarf around Aziraphale’s neck, tucking its dark scales into the warmth of the cashmere.

“Are you warm enough?”

A small black head darted out and nosed its way along Aziraphale’s jaw affectionately before settling comfortably near his ear. Aziraphale smiled and reached up to pull his scarf more securely against the wind, his knuckles brushing against the coils around his neck that were far more precious to him than any ornament Heaven had to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find this ficlet on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/628263329414184960/ducks)!


	4. plane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, played it fast and loose with this one - the full prompt is "sneks on a plane" but I _needed_ naga!Crowley in my life.

“For goodness’ sake,” Aziraphale sighed to himself. He’d been trying to find Crowley in his cavern of a flat for the past ten minutes, to no avail. He was certain Crowley was here – his demonic signature hung in the air, a low-level simmer that Aziraphale knew like the back of his hand – and Crowley had insisted repeatedly that Aziraphale was to come visit anytime he wanted, even if Crowley was asleep,  _ mi casa es su casa.  _

Aziraphale crossed Crowley’s enormous office and passed through the revolving concrete wall, trying very hard to ignore the statue of the wrestling angels at the end of the hall that never failed to make him blush in confusion (why in Heaven did Crowley even  _ have that? _ ) before a small movement in Crowley’s bedroom caught his eye.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale knocked quietly on the glass door to Crowley’s bedroom. When there was no answer, he slid the door open and stepped inside.

The room was empty at first glance, but as Aziraphale peered around uncertainly, there was a small sigh – and when he looked up, he saw Crowley flat on his back against the ceiling in black silk pajamas that hung limply away from his body, tugged down by gravity, curtains of red hair falling down each side of his face, his arms stretched out on either side the way human children did when they were lifted into the air, playing at being airplanes.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said again. “Crowley, wake up.”

Suddenly, the golden eyes opened, and Crowley fell onto the mattress with a  _ whump  _ and a most undignified squeak. The room was flooded in darkness and Aziraphale felt an immense surge of demonic energy rushing into the room like a tidal wave. Aziraphale’s arms and legs were abruptly bound tightly to his body by the coils of a massive serpent, lifting him bodily into the air. A pair of clawed hands gripped his lapels tightly as a face suddenly appeared before him, sharply carved in right angles, fangs bared in a snarl, eyes glowing bright as amber in the darkness.

“It’s only me, my dear,” Aziraphale said quietly, seeing that Crowley wasn’t quite awake all the way yet, his burning golden eyes still clouded with sleep.

The grip on his lapels loosened somewhat, and after a few seconds the tawny eyes blinked once, as if unsure of what they were seeing. Suddenly, they widened in recognition, and the morning sunlight spilled in through the glass doors, chasing the shadows out once more.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley mumbled, scrubbing at his face with one clawed hand, letting out a breath with a hiss. “Don’t ssstartle me like that.”

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale’s mouth twitched with amusement. “I didn’t think you were going to react that way.”

“Mmmph.”

Aziraphale was gently set down on the bed, sitting upright against the headboard, and Crowley slithered in beside him, the coils of his enormous body settling themselves over Aziraphale, a heavy blanket of shimmering red and black scales, the end of his tail looping itself around Aziraphale’s waist. A smile lingered on Aziraphale’s lips as he laid a hand gently on the lapful of serpent that had been bestowed upon him.

Crowley let out a soft sigh and huddled closer to Aziraphale, his tail tightening around Aziraphale’s waist, his eyes already closed in sleep. With a snap of Aziraphale’s fingers, a book appeared on Crowley’s bedside table – a first edition of  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream  _ – and Aziraphale settled in to read, his fingers running softly through the soft red curls that lay pressed against his hip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's ficlet loosely inspired by [this amazing artwork by hollow-head](https://twitter.com/taraleblara/status/1301753057370189825) on Twitter.
> 
> Find this ficlet on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/628347322218299392/plane)!


	5. beach

The press of the water is soothing, all sound reduced to a muted hum in Crowley’s ears. His tail moves lazily, letting the current propel him forward as he scours the ocean floor for his prize. He’s in no hurry. Diving this deep almost feels like an indulgence – the luxury of solitude, of quiet, of being enveloped in a darkness so absolute that he could curl up on a reef and sleep for a hundred years undisturbed.

He could if he wanted to. And sometimes, he does want to. The pull of the ocean like a siren’s call, urging him to stay underwater, to go ever deeper and never emerge from its depths. He senses it in every ripple of water against his scales, against every inch of his skin, tugging at something in his very bones. He has never known how it feels to be tempted. He wonders if this is what it’s like.

A flash of light catches Crowley’s eye, the tiniest glint concealed in a half-open oyster. It clamps shut as he draws near, but he convinces it to open at his touch. It permits him to take its treasure, and he does so as carefully as he can manage, lifting out the pearl by the very tips of his claws.

For a moment, he admires its luster, the soft iridescent gleam of its smooth surface, a tiny white sphere on his palm. It reminds him suddenly of the moon and the stars that he hung, the brightness of the sun, the blinding smile on a face that he knew and loved.

_Angel._

Without further ado, Crowley turns his face toward the surface and begins to swim, his serpentine body undulating against the current, lashing hard against the undertow. He holds the little pearl in a tightly clenched fist against his chest, his other arm pulling him through the water. The sunlight grows brighter above him, and for a moment, he feels a sharp moment of regret for the comfort of the darkness he had left behind.

But as he finally surfaces, taking his first deep breath in what feels like hours, he catches sight of a familiar figure sitting on the beach, bent over a book.

“Angel!”

Crowley’s voice is a hoarse sound scraping against the dryness of his throat, and he has to squint against the glare of the shimmering waves, but he sees the halo of fair hair lift – and even from this distance, Aziraphale’s smile is even brighter than the sun, a beacon calling Crowley home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's ficlet inspired by [Siren's Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876772/chapters/52216369) by Kedreeva. (Just realized this is the first one I've written from Crowley’s POV!) 
> 
> Find this ficlet on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/628434620568027136/beach)!


	6. snekspeare

“Angel.”

The sudden voice next to Aziraphale’s ear combined with the chin that settled on his shoulder nearly made Aziraphale jump clean out of his armchair. He turned around to glare at Crowley, who was looking absolutely pleased with himself.

“Really, Crowley,” he said severely, turning back to his book, slightly put out at having lost his page.

“ _Really, Aziraphale_ ,” Crowley drawled, imitating Aziraphale’s tone. “You don’t need to read that. I’ll recite it for you, if you like. To make up for startling you.” He knelt before Aziraphale, his golden eyes clearly visible over the rim of his sunglasses. The heat crept up Aziraphale's face at the sight of Crowley at his feet. 

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” Crowley’s lips curved into a wicked smirk, his voice low and honeyed.

 _Ah,_ Aziraphale thought, suddenly comprehending. _Two can play at this game._

He bent forward and gently took Crowley’s sunglasses off, to give Crowley no opportunity to hide. “To me, fair friend, you never can be old, for as you were, when first your eye I ey’d,” Aziraphale said, brushing a knuckle against a sculpted cheek, “Such seems your beauty still.”

Aziraphale was thoroughly encouraged by the startled noise that left Crowley's throat, but Crowley rallied marvelously. 

“Now counting best to be with you alone, then better’d that the world may see my pleasure…” Crowley leaned forward to rest his cheek on Aziraphale’s knee, looking up through his lashes at Aziraphale, who had to admit it was terribly fetching. “Sometime all full with feasting on your sight, and by and by, clean starved for a look.”

“You fiend. Sometimes I can hardly believe how long you let me go on believing you hated to read.” Aziraphale shook his head and tried not to laugh. “What a piece of work you are.”

“No, no, that’s cheating, sonnets _only_ –”

Crowley was on his feet and halfway out the room before he had even finished speaking, and Aziraphale laughed. “How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty. In form and moving, how express and admirable,” Aziraphale continued, following Crowley into the bookshop. “In action, how like an –”

“Angel!” Crowley groaned.

“In apprehension, how like a –” A hand covered Aziraphale’s mouth and Crowley scowled at him in warning before turning away, accidentally knocking a book to the floor. Aziraphale bent down to pick it up, but to his surprise, when he looked around, Crowley was nowhere to be seen. His brow furrowed in worry before he heard the slightest telltale hiss coming from the couch. 

He found a serpent hidden under the paisley blanket, curled up tightly in the way that meant that Crowley was embarrassed and didn’t quite know what to do about it. 

Aziraphale smiled and sat down. “The beauty of the world,” he said, more quietly now, reaching out to softly touch the glittering black scales. “A paragon of animals.”

Crowley hissed and relented, uncoiling himself and settling into Aziraphale’s lap. “Cheating bastard,” he muttered, his magnificent diamond head rearing up to look Aziraphale in the eye.

“Very well, my dear, if you so insist on my reciting the sonnets.” Aziraphale gathered the pile of coils closer to him, not allowing Crowley any chance of slithering away as Crowley squawked in surprise. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,” he said, “But bears it out –”

“Even to the edge of doom,” Crowley finished. Black and red coils wound around Aziraphale's stomach and chest, Crowley's head coming to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder once more. Nothing about Crowley was embarrassed now, every inch of him radiated contentment, bliss, _joy_. Aziraphale beamed as Crowley's snout rubbed softly against his cheek. “Alwaysss, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing unbeta-ed lately. I apologize for my egregious overuse of Shakespeare and for posting this a day late. (I fell asleep while proofreading!)
> 
> Find this ficlet on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/628556629372256256/snekspeare)!


	7. naps

“Angel,” Crowley grumbled. “Sss’cold.”

“Oh, my dear. Come here.”

Crowley slithered his way up Aziraphale’s leg, wrapping himself snugly around Aziraphale’s torso and shoulders as he sat in his favorite armchair with a book. The angel radiated heat, and Crowley squirmed happily at the sensation of Aziraphale’s warmth against the length of his whole body.

“I know what will do the trick.” Aziraphale reached down and pulled out a thick tartan blanket, carefully tucking it around himself and around Crowley, who hissed with pleasure. “Is that better?”

“Yesss.” So warm, so comfortable.

“It is, rather,” Aziraphale agreed.

_Oh._ Crowley didn’t realize he had said that out loud.

“I think I might try taking a nap, my dear. If you would be so inclined to join me.”

“Look at you thinking of _sssleeping.”_

“Your wily influence, I’m sure.” Aziraphale yawned quite expansively. “I must say, this really is terribly cozy.”

“That it is,” Crowley said, his body tightening more closely around Aziraphale. “Close your eyes, now.”

“You shan’t tempt me, serpent,” Aziraphale said, a small smile curling on his lips. Before long, his eyelids drooped and his cheek leaned against the black and red coil of Crowley’s body on his shoulder, soon relaxing into quiet, measured breaths. Crowley settled down, watchful, guarding his angel as he slept.


	8. Eden

Aziraphale sat down under the shade of an enormous tree, heaving a sigh. It had been a day and a night since the humans had been banished, and with no word from Heaven since the Almighty had suddenly deigned to speak to him, he was rather at a loss as to what to do with himself. 

Suddenly, there was a scraping sound from high above him, and as he looked up, he saw something falling – he caught it in his hands, fumbling and nearly dropping it. 

It was an apple, the golden cheek streaked with shades of red. Aziraphale’s mouth parted, surprised at how tantalizing it smelled. 

“For you, angel.” 

Aziraphale’s head jerked up to see a serpent wrapped around a sturdy branch. “Oh,” he breathed. “You gave me a fright.”

There was a hiss of amusement as the serpent slithered down to the ground, coming to rest in an immense heap of black and red coils next to Aziraphale on the grass. For a split second, Aziraphale wondered if he might change into a more human form once more, remembering the majestic wings that had unfurled behind him, the night-black feathers iridescent in the sunlight.

Aziraphale had seen demons before. He wondered why this one was so _beautiful_. 

“Go on, then. I have it on good authority that they’re delicious.”

Was this a temptation? Aziraphale looked down at the fruit in his hand. “Have you tried one before?”

“Nah.” The serpent looked at the apple, considering it. “S’not my thing, eating.”

“Oh.” How strange, Aziraphale thought. Eating must not be such a terrible thing then, if it wasn’t something that a demon liked. And surely, there was nothing wrong with familiarizing himself with the experience of consumption. 

And the apple did smell so delightful.

He raised it to his lips and gingerly bit into it, the way he’d seen the humans do. There was a surprising crunch as the golden skin split, juice flooding into his mouth, a drop running down his chin. The taste was overwhelming on his tongue – he had never had anything like it before, the sweet firm flesh tempered by a hint of tartness. He hummed with pleasure, using a finger to wipe the juice from his chin, putting it in his mouth to catch every last drop.

“Oh, that is lovely,” he sighed. 

The serpent hissed, clearly pleased. “Feeling better?”

“Quite,” Aziraphale answered, thoroughly mystified by this demon who didn't seem very demon-like at all (could demons even be kind?), but all the same, he was grateful. Tentatively, he held out his hand, wondering if he would be permitted to touch – but to his surprise, the serpent uncoiled and slithered closer, curling up against the edge of Aziraphale’s tunic. 

Aziraphale hesitated, then gently rested his hand on the shimmering scales of the serpent’s body. A forked tongue flicked against his hand. Aziraphale smiled and raised the fruit to his lips to take another bite. For a moment, all was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for this one was "historical or through the ages" and I really just wanted to write Eden babies. 
> 
> This is also technically day 9. I missed 8, which was snuddling (snake cuddling), but half my fics have had snuddling... Does that count? :c
> 
> Find this ficlet on my Tumblr [here](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/post/628788790573580288/eden)!


End file.
